Willow

I surrender to the song, let it sing me
the words write me now
my body, soft clay in his hands
I let him shape me as he pleases
this night – a flower, opening bud
tomorrow, I am a shell
vessel from which he drinks
me

I don’t pray anymore
instead
I become moving prayer

only lovers can understand these ways
to dance and be danced by him
to give and be given

I am the moonlit willow reaching down
nourished by dark
faithful to the winds that bent me
inseparable from his body of water

and he
finds me like a great tree
longing to be sculpted by the dream of love